This CD is something of a double whammy for me since I’d never heard
of Ivan Karabits before - though I knew of his son Kirill, who is the conductor
here - and all three of his compositions here are world première
recordings. What I heard really impressed me and has sparked a burning desire
to explore his musical world further.

When I was a child I remember telling my mother that I wasn’t sure
I liked chamber music very much. She replied that it was an acquired taste
that she was confident I would one day acquire. She was right - aren’t
all mothers. Later I went through a period of enjoying chamber music to
such an extent that I began to find orchestral music over-fussy. I likened
it to having a four course meal all on the same plate and not being able
to sort the hors d’oeuvres and dessert from the main course.
If I still felt that way I would certainly make an exception for Kirill
Karabits’ music. After all, it appeals to my interest in being open
to try different things, whether food-related - I’d never refuse a
sheep’s eyeball if I hadn’t tried it first - or music-related.

Karabits, born in Yalta, Ukraine in 1945 studied first with Boris Lyatoshynsky
then Myroslav Skoryk before becoming Professor of Composition at the Kiev
Tchaikovsky Music Academy. He founded the Kiev Music Fest, Ukraine’s
leading contemporary music festival and was regarded as Ukraine’s
leading composer. This was particularly following the country’s independence
in 1991 after the collapse of the Soviet Union. The reason I’d have
made an exception for Karabits’ music during my “anti-orchestral
music phase”, if I’d have come across it, is because it is so
interesting, rich with invention. While it has its serious moments it is
also often funny and full of quirky elements. Drawing inspiration from his
friend and mentor the composer Rodion Shchedrin who penned five concertos
for orchestra Karabits’ concertos exemplify his obvious flair for
this style of composition.

His Concerto for Orchestra No.2 is a perfect case in point with big,
bold statements throughout. There’s no sense of the music getting
lost or not knowing where it’s headed. The overriding reason this
doesn’t happen with Karabits is his fantastic sense of colouration.
His music is a large canvas that is full of continual action and interest.
The concerto begins with a bold and serious statement from the entire orchestra
before it subsides to allow the string section to continue with a somewhat
fractured interlude. Eventually this gives way to a more restful pastoral
section. Another burst of orchestral declaration is followed by a more restrained
end to the movement. The concerto is cast in three almost seamless movements.
The second opens with a tolling bell accompanied by a drum roll and cymbals.
This leads to what the booklet notes accurately describe as “a bleak,
still landscape with an eerie piccolo solo” and solemn contributions
from a solo cello and harp. Karabits obviously enjoyed including instruments
otherwise rarely employed, in this case harpsichord and celesta, which are
accompanied by clarinet. The movement ends on a restatement of the work’s
opening but now much more threatening in character. The final movement marked
moderato may be ‘moderate’ in the accepted sense but
it includes some amazing interjections from the percussion section, xylophone
and celesta. There’s even clapping from those members of the orchestra
free to do so. Things close with a fascinatingly energetic, exciting and
improvisatory outburst from bongos and a final orchestral flourish.

The next concerto on the disc is Karabits’ two movement Third Concerto
which is subtitled Lamentations. This includes some gloriously romantic
and highly evocative music with an extremely serious back-story. The concerto
was commissioned by Ukrainian-American composer, conductor and pianist Virko
Baley. It takes as its inspiration two tragedies that befell the Ukraine
in the twentieth century: the famine of 1932-33 that ensued following the
Stalinist policy of forced collectivisation of agriculture and the Chernobyl
nuclear disaster of 1986. Collectivisation affected Ukraine, the principal
wheat-growing area of the country especially severely. It resulted in over
7 million deaths from starvation while the repercussions from Chernobyl
are still being felt.

The gentle sound of triangles opens the concerto. A solitary horn enters
playing a Ukrainian folk tune. A thin violin sound with harp and then cello
accompaniment later emerges. This is together with a special instrument
developed by the composer and his then thirteen-year-old son Kirill, the
conductor on this disc. This is made from the weaving of tiny bells into
tresses of hair giving the most incredible and unusual sound. It just has
to be heard. The bells represent ‘the voices that we hear from the
past’. In this way the ‘lamentations’ of the title refer
not just to the two tragedies but to the ritual chanting that in the Ukraine
accompanies events such as funerals, something common to many cultures.
The strings then take up this solemnity leading to a solo clarinet that
plays mournfully. Rising waves of orchestral sound are accompanied by a
fully exploited percussion section increasing in volume until the movement
concludes with the sounds of flexatones. These brilliantly evoke a ghoulish
atmosphere that presumably represents the spectre of famine and death. The
second movement opens with the rising sound of the orchestra packed with
colour until this gives way to allow bongos to play briefly before the rising
intensity of the orchestra reaches a peak that gives way to the sound of
tiny bells. Karabits clearly enjoys theatrical gestures and this makes his
music all the more interesting. At this point in the score he calls for
the conductor to leave the podium and play a lament on piano. Then he is
joined by members of the orchestra gently singing a four note scale in the
manner of a lament. The flute reprises the folk tune from the opening of
the concerto. The work then ends with everything falling away to leave the
final notes on piano to express the most profound grief.

Karabits’ Musical Gift to Kiev was composed to mark the 1500th
anniversary of the city’s founding in 482 AD. The composer described
the concerto as an exuberant way of opening a concert. This it most certainly
is in much the same way as is Shostakovich’s Festive Overture.
There is a mixture of pealing bells and fanfares. These give way to lush
orchestral sounds with the sound of woodwind spiralling upwards and the
celesta and tubular bells being employed once again. The whole erupts in
an explosion of sound that prefaces the second movement. Taking over in
a seamless manner this movement is a vast canvas with a veritable cornucopia
of orchestral colour. Included are roles for celesta, harp, flutes, woodblocks,
side and snare drums, tubular bells all joining the strings in a Hollywood-style
declaration of grandeur. Another fanfare follows before the celesta and
harp gently conclude the concerto. This leaves us with a sense of the timeless
nature of this grand and enduring city.

There would be an argument for programming all three of Karabits’
concertos for orchestra in a single concert. Each is relatively short and
instruments rarely employed are used in all three so can be financially
easily justified. Add to this that these are really exciting and barnstorming
works that would thrill any but the most jaded of audiences.

Though I knew Valentin Silvestrov’s name I had not heard these two
works before and once again I was mightily impressed. Silvestrov and Karabits
were friends and Elegie is a work Silvestrov fashioned from Karabits’
pencil sketches for a projected work based on the writings of the Ukrainian
philosopher Grigory Skovorda (1722-94). It was written as a memorial to
his friend who was working on the score in the hospital where he met his
untimely death. It is like a dialogue between the two composers and the
score gives ‘Karabits/Silvestrov’ as the authors. It is dedicated
to Karabits’ widow Marianna Kopystia. Elegie was given its
first performance in the September of the year he died by his son Kirill
and the Kiev Camerata. Abschiedsserenade is dedicated to Ivan Karabits’
memory and was given its premiere in 2003. The piece bears many likenesses
to Mahler with upwardly mobile strings that characterise so much of Mahler’s
writing. There’s also a deeply felt elegiac nature at work here and
a heart-wrenchingly plaintive atmosphere. This is particularly true of the
short second movement. It is certainly a fitting tribute from one composer
to a beloved colleague.

Once again Naxos has brought us works that are either world premières
or are rarely heard. In this case the disc introduces the public to the
work of Ivan Karabits who, on this strength should be heard on disc and
in the concert hall with increasing frequency. His music is bound to delight
audiences the world over. Karabits’ son Kirill directs the Bournemouth
Symphony Orchestra wonderfully and gets the very best from it with some
fabulous orchestral colouration. This is an absolutely brilliant disc that
bowled me over and I can’t wait to discover more music by these two
giants of Ukrainian classical music.